


Separation

by Mazzydoodle



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Caring Scrooge McDuck, Della is a good sister, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mutism, Panic Attacks, Scrooge also being old and being a bit ignorant at first, Scrooge being a good uncle, Separation Anxiety, Speech Disorders, Twins, Young Donald and Della, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29787312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazzydoodle/pseuds/Mazzydoodle
Summary: Donald was every bit the moody teenager that Scrooge expected him to be, always wanting to be left alone and complaining about everything. Which is why it made no sense to him when seemingly overnight Donald became incredibly clingy, afraid to let his uncle leave the room without him, and would no longer speak anymore. Even Della didn't know what was going on with her brother. What happened when they were visiting their grandmothers farm?
Relationships: Della Duck & Donald Duck, Della Duck & Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck & Scrooge McDuck
Comments: 31
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is very heavy on the themes of mental health and separation anxiety. I've read a lot of stories on Donald having the worst mental health but haven't seen one like this and thought it would be a good one to add to all the myriads of other problems Donald has had in his life. We stan a troubled duck in our house.

Scrooge never wanted children, but now that he had them? There was no way he'd go back. His nephew and niece brought such a purpose to his life that he never knew he needed and he'd be damned if anything tried to take that away. They were his kin and he was by all means their parent. But that didn't mean that there wasn't times he would lose his temper with their attitudes or lack of obedience. 

They were both fifteen and hormones were every bit as bad as Scrooge remembered. Della was a nightmare at times, so loud and excitable, but also getting extremely bossy and controlling, believing she had the answer for everything. But she was also sweet and compassionate when it came down to it, so he wasn't too concerned. Sometimes he found her anecdotes funny, and shame to admit, he'd be encouraging this bad behaviour when it wasn't directed at him. 

Donald was every bit the typical teenage boy. He just wanted to be left alone in his room and to do his own thing. Della dragged him on their adventures, and while he was good at them, especially at fighting, his heart wasn't in it. Scrooge had tried on numerous occasions to connect with him, build the same close bond that he felt with Della, but the lad would just roll his eyes thinking he was being punished for something. 

So it came like a brick to his face when he had gotten the phone call from Elvera asking him to come and pick up the twins because Donald was homesick.

Scrooge had a business trip scheduled for a couple of days out of Duckbourg, one that the twins weren't able to go with him on. By coincidence their grandmother had written to them, asking if they would like to stay on the farm with her for two weeks to visit, along with the other young children of their long extended family. Naturally Della was overjoyed at the idea, and though Donald didn't show it, he was too.

Everything was fine when Scrooge dropped them off, taking the long car journey with them so he could briefly greet the elderly woman. It was a welcoming sight when they made it to the farm, Elvira placed out balloons and a welcome banner for her grand kids, most of whom had already been dropped off.

Della and Donald had leapt into her arms, almost knocking her over in the process. It was the first time in ages he had seen the moody boy smile, happy to see his grandma again. That's why it didn't make sense when he got the phone call. They had been there for five days, Della had rang just yesterday saying how much of a great time they were having. So now at 11pm, Elvira apologising profusely, explaining that she knew it was unreasonable but Donald wouldn't settle himself. The boy was frantic with tears and shaking so much that she was close to ringing the hospital. He was refusing to talk, whether that was by choice or he was unable to no one knew. He just kept pointing to a picture of Scrooge and nodding desperately when asked if he wanted to go back to the mansion.

The trillionaire sighed. He was settled in his bed for the night and didn't exactly feel like heading back to the farm in the early hours of the morning. He was in half a mind to put Donald on the phone and tell the boy to stop being ridiculous and go to sleep. But Scrooge couldn't bring himself to say those words for some reason. Because why was his nephew so desperate to come home? No one knew the answer and it was so unlike him that Scrooge feared something bad must of happened. So instead of taking the car, he made a quick phone call and got a private plane over, cutting the journey down to an hour. 

It was an odd sight indeed, one he would have been chuckling to himself about had there not been such a tense atmosphere. Della sat in silence, her eyes wide with worry as she stared at her brother. Donald was sat by Scrooge's side, his head resting down on the misers shoulder and arms wrapped so tight over his chest that Scrooge found it a strain when he breathed. The lad has never been one for physical affection whereas Della loved it, so seeing their roles reversed was bizarre at least.

Scrooge had asked questions, tried to make sense of what was going on, but there were no answers. Della didn't have a clue and Donald had completely shut himself off. He refused to talk, or make any attempt to explain. He started appearing almost like a ghost. All he wanted was to be held by his uncle and nothing more. Scrooge could hardly deny him that.

It was still early in the morning when they made it back home, Duckworth driving them from the private airport they landed on. Della helped take in their bags, dropping them down as soon as they walked inside. Scrooge rubbed his tired eyes, just glad to have this ordeal dealt with. He looked over to Donald, the young lad gripping onto his arm as they walked, his face still held low to the floor, whether feeling guilty or just upset he didn't know.

“Right'o, I think with all the excitement over we best be going to our beds. Come on wee ones” he spoke softly, leading the two children up to their rooms.

It was only recent that the twins had split from sharing a room, deciding they needed to have their own privacy as they were getting older. So when they passed Della's room, Scrooge gave her a kiss on the forehead and bid her goodnight. She hesitated by the door, unusually quiet. She was still worried for her brother.

When arriving at Donald's room he lead the boy inside, deciding now might be the best time to get to the bottom of what was going on. The teen wasn't crying anymore, but his hands were still unsteady and it put Scrooge on edge. He didn't like not knowing things, especially concerning his kids.

Carefully, for a moment thinking his nephew was made of glass, he helped Donald into his bed, pulling the covers over and tucking him in. Normally that would have sparked an outrage from the teen, claiming he was too old for things like that, but nothing was said. This bothered Scrooge so much. Donald would get angry at something as simple as touching his hair and throw a fit if he didn't like something, so the fact that he was allowing this and was making no attempt to stop it was a red flag. Looking at his nephews face, something in his heart twisted. The stupid long fringe the lad had was falling over one of his eyes, but he could still see clear as day the sadness then emulated from them. Still so red and watery. While he didn't seem to be panicking anymore, there was still something in the way he looked, something that Scrooge could have easily called fear. But from what? 

Without realising it, Scrooge reached out and brushed the boys hair back, wishing so much he'd cut the damn thing. Donald closed his eyes, surprisingly leaning into the touch. He was so tired, so drained after the events of the night, perhaps it was best to wait until morning to talk.

So with a small smile, Scrooge bid his goodnight, planting a small kiss on his nephews forehead as he had accustomed to do every night before, despite the complaining that came with it, and he left the boy to his room. 

The next morning Scrooge woke up as early as he did every morning. 6Am sharp! A late night was no excuse to act like a deadbeat.

As he walked from his room down the hallway, he paused outside of Donald's door. He knew the lad wouldn't be awake but he still wanted to check up and see if he was okay. Quietly he twisted the handle and slowly crept the door open, peeking his head through the small gap. He threw the door open the full way when he realised the bed was empty, the covers pushed up as a pile at the end of the mattress. Scrooge scratched at his head at the oddity. Donald hated mornings, so where was he? Perhaps he and Della had gotten up early for some reason?

So without a second thought, Scrooge walked to the room next to this one, and again quietly opened the door in case Della was asleep. The light from the hallway seeped into the room enough for him to make out the figure lying under the blankets, her hair tied up into a bun and her leg freed from the covers and exposed to the cold. In her arms she held the sleeping form of her twin brother, who was still dressed in his day clothes from yesterday. His face was buried into her chest, his arms securely around her waist. It was sight Scrooge hadn't seen from the two since the night they first moved into the mansion under his care, after losing their parents. They were so young then, there was something bitter sweet about seeing it again. He decided that for now it was best to leave them be. 

“Morning uncle Scrooge!” Della beamed brightly as she danced into the dining room, taking her usual chair on the right next to her guardian. Scrooge smiled at the sight of her, a sunny welcome from an otherwise gloomy day. Donald was behind her, and while he'd normally take the chair on the left of Scrooge, he instead sat next to Della this time, looking so unsure of himself as he did so. It wasn't unnoticed that the lad was wearing one of his sisters turtle neck jumpers, probably too lazy to go into his own room to get clean clothes. 

“So” Scrooge started awkwardly, watching as Duckworth placed breakfast down for the twins. Della dug in while Donald stared at his. “How did ye both sleep?” he asked.  
Della's eyes darted at her brother then back to her food. “We slept alright, Donald climbed in my bed though.” Immediately the boy elbowed her, his face red from betrayal. She yelped and rubbed the area that he hit. 

“Donald!” Scrooge warned. The lad looked back down.

“Well I had to tell him Don, you've been acting weird all night” she explained, glaring as she held her arm. 

“Alright Della, let the lad explain himself” Scrooge interjected, allowing a silence to fall as the cue for Donald to speak. But he said nothing, keeping his eyes fixed on the food he didn't want to eat.

“Laddie?” he prompted, but still nothing. He felt himself growing annoyed. “Donald!” he snapped, trying to at least get him to look up, but while the teen did flinch, he didn't look away from the table. “Donald yer being extremely rude right now! I paid a lot of money to rent out a plane so I could get ye home, the least ye could do is tell me what's causing all this trouble!”

There was still nothing, and Scrooge was becoming impatient. “This isnee a game nephew! Ye really put me and yer grandmother out of our way with this little tantrum of yers.”

That hit a nerve. Donald flinched and closed his eyes tightly. Della was quick to reach up and wipe the tears away from his face before they fell. He suddenly started trembling again.

Scrooge was at a loss, why wasn't Donald talking? The lad did have a history of issues with his voice, most noticeable being the scratchiness and sometimes slurred way he spoke as a child, but over the past year he had gotten a lot better, his voice still had an edge of roughness to it, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Doctors had suggested it would be something he'd grew out of, and it was appearing to be that way for a while. He was even starting to sound really good when he sang too, his voice being perfect for those rock and roll songs he liked so much. Donald was many things, silent wasn't one of them.

With a reluctant sigh, Scrooge felt himself admit defeat. He wiped his beak with a napkin and placed his top-hat back on his head. “Alright kids, we'll leave it as it is for now. I have to get going to the bin for a meeting. The board of directors are on my case again, renting a plane in the middle of the night certainly doesn't help” he scoffed and got up from his chair. “I'll see ye two trouble makers later” he said as he walked to the door.

But then he stopped as he got a fright from the loud squawking noise that rang through the room and a strong hand gripping around his wrist. His head snapped back to the table, eyes as small as pin dots. Della was just as taken back as the chair next to hers was tipped over and Donald was standing next to Scrooge, hand locked on his uncle. Without a word he threw himself onto him, arms crushing around the man's neck and torso. Small whimpering noises escaped as the boy struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling frantically as if he were drowning. 

He didn't know what that noise was earlier, but Scrooge didn't have time to wonder as his hands worked to lift Donald's face from his shoulder. “What in dismel downs is wrong with ye lad? What do ye think yer playing at?” he yelled, forcing the younger one to look up at him this time. Donald tried to worm free, tried to pry away from the grip and place himself back into the hold he had before, but he had to settle for holding onto Scrooge's hands instead, why though he didn't know. 

Scrooge didn't have time to play around however, he let go and stepped back to put distance between the two of them, but Donald jumped at him again, holding him the same as before. “Donald I have to go to work. Stop being ridiculous!” he yelled, prying his nephews arms from around him, but the boy was surprisingly strong, Scrooge had trained him too well, and getting him to let go was harder then he'd anticipated. Della could only watch the whole thing from her chair, too unsure if she should get involved or not. 

She didn't need to though. Duckworth had come in and seen the struggle between the two before deciding to intervene.

As Scrooge held back Donald's arms, Duckworth came from behind and grabbed the boy around his stomach, lifting him up from the floor so he couldn't push back. Finally Scrooge could leave the room. 

This was a mistake.

Donald started screaming as he watched his uncle leave. He kicked out, not caring that Della and Duckworth were pleading with him to calm down. He lashed out with hands balled into fists, willing to punch anything and anyone that was keeping him back. Duckworth hadn't thought it would be this difficult to hold back a child, he tried placing a hand over his beak to at least keep him quiet while the master left, but this only gave Donald the opening he needed as he elbowed Duckworth in the eye, knocking him down and causing him to let go of his hold. He pushed Della out of his way when she tried to block him and raced to the front door before Scrooge could leave him.

The old man nearly had a heart attack as he was once again pounced on, falling to his knees from the impact. His nephew maybe small for his age, but there was a lot of force behind that small figure. “Donald ye maniac!! GET OFF ME!!” he yelled, hitting the lad with his cane. The teen didn't even register it, too desperate to hold onto his uncle.

Duckworth and Della came running in after, and Scrooge saw the bruise on his butlers face and easily pieced what had happened. 

“Right!” he seethed to himself, stepping up and grabbing Donald's shoulders to pull him up with him harshly. He held the teen at bay and forced Donald to pay attention this time by shaking him. “Ye are in so much trouble young man! I don't care what pathetic excuse ye have going on in yer head but ye do NOT hit anyone in this family! Do I make myself clear?”  
The boy said nothing.

Scrooge was not a cruel man to kids, but he had the biggest urge to slap that kid. 

Donald was just staring at him, sadly, and nothing else. His hands still clung to his uncle's coat. Scrooge felt his limit being reached. His nephew was being out of control and there was no apparent reason for it.

“Ye listen to me Donald. Ye have two choices. Ye either tell me what is going on or I'm locking ye in yer room for the rest of the day. Which one is it?” Scrooge was so angry, he didn't notice the new found fear in his nephews eyes, or that the boy's legs were growing unstable.

Della and Duckworth saw it, but he had failed to see that Donald's mouth was opening and closing slightly, his breath hitching every so often. It was like he was trying to speak, trying so hard, but he couldn't. Duckworth was about to point this out, but Scrooge too the silence as ignorance and ran out of patience. “Fine then” he growled, snatching Donald's arm and dragging him aggressively upstairs. The duck winced and groaned in protest, clinging onto Scrooge as if the miser was about to throw him off a cliff.

Della went to chase after them, stopping only because of Duckworth's hand on her shoulder. She couldn't see it happening, but she heard her brother cry in protest and a door slamming shut, drowning out his cries, followed by the sound of a key in a lock. Scrooge came back down the stairs, straightening his coat from the creases it had now gained. He went to say something but all three of them flinched when they heard the sound of punching on the wooden door above them.

“Sir I really think you shouldn't of done that” Duckworth said.

Scrooge didn't agree. “The boy is acting out for whatever reason and I am not going to let that sort of behaviour continue. I cannae understand what's gotten into him?” he cried. “Della, surely ye must know something! Anything that could have caused this?” he spoke to her, but the girl had her eyes fixed upon the top of the stairs, flinching at every punch her brother made on the door. They could hear his muffled screams, desperately pleading, like a wild animal trying to escape from a trap.

“I don't know” she cried, wishing so badly that she could explain it. “E-everything was fine. We were with Gladstone and Fethry all day and he was being himself-” another punch echoed above them. “Grandma asked him to go out and put the chickens away for the night, and when he came back in he went to sleep. He woke up at ten and that's when he started panicking and wanting to go home. I don't know what happened!” Another punch.

“He probably decided he wanted to come home because he was asked to actually do some work” Scrooge scoffed.

Della glared at her uncle, angry in that moment until another, much louder, punch brought her attention back. She started trembling, tears building in her eyes. She hated this so much.

“Sir, I think one of the main concerns here is that Master Donald isn't talking. Are you sure he's doing this just for attention? It did look as though he was trying to speak earlier but couldn't” Duckworth pointed out. Another punch.

“Why would he have a problem? His voice is the best it's been for year. He's never had a history of mutism before, why would he have it now?”

“I don't know but this is very, very peculiar behaviour, you must know that this can't be deliberate sir?” Another punch.

Della felt a sob in her throat as she listened to her brother grow more and more distressed. He wasn't calming down and it was scaring her. “Uncle Scrooge I don't like this, please let him out” she begged, but she was ignored. 

“Well he's obviously trying to get a reaction for some reason. He's never had a problem with me leaving the house before, so he must be doing this for attention. If nothing happened then what else could it be?”

“Uncle Scrooge...” Another punch.

“Sir I don't think that's what's happening here...”

All three of them jumped in surprise at the sound of a door being forced off it's hinges and slammed onto the floor above them. When they looked up, Donald was already there, running down the steps and stopping only when he made it to his uncle.

Scrooge was horrified at what he saw. The boy was panting heavily, sweat running down his face and wetting his hair. His cheeks flushed a bright red and his voice sounded broken with every pant he took. But Scrooge could only stare at his hands. His knuckles were bleeding badly. There were splinters sticking out from the cuts and blood was oozing between his fingers, covering the many bruises that laced his fists.

He couldn't bring himself to discipline the boy, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He just stared at his nephew, now realising the lengths he had gone through just to escape that room, all just so he could at least stand by Scrooge's side, wanting so badly to reach out and hold him but now scared to do so.

Okay, Duckworth was right. There was something seriously wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Hear my voice,_

_As I'm calling out to you._

_Hear my voice,_

_There are things I wish you knew...”_

_Scrooge smiled to himself as he stood by the half opened door, listening as his nephew strummed his guitar and sang the latest song he was working on. As unique as the lads voice was, it was very pleasurable to listen to, having an almost relaxing tone despite the edge of grit and harshness that came with it. Originally Scrooge had thought it was a waste of time, letting the lad spend hours practicing his music when he could of been more productive with his time, but he was starting to think that perhaps this could be the career for his nephew after all._

_Donald came to a sudden halt when he noticed his uncle staring at him._

_"SCROOGE!!” he screamed with embarrassment, face flushing a bright red, “What are you doing in my room?!”_

_"My house laddie, so this is my room too. Besides what are ye getting all worked up for, I thought yer sounded really good. New song?” Scrooge asked while walking over to the bed the boy sat on with his guitar. Donald grew shy at the compliment, “Um yeah, kinda. It's not finished or anything, but... you think it sounded good?”_

_Scrooge smiled with a small chuckle, “That I do lad. Now come on with ya, ye can practice more when we get back, we're heading to the mountains of Peru to find the golden llama egg! An incredible myth and worth a pretty penny if we find it.” The teen was less enthusiastic about it though and threw his head back with a groan. “Do I have to go? I'm sick of adventuring. Why can't I stay here?” he whined, strumming at his guitar._

_“_ _Because we go on adventures as a family, so come on with ya, I want ye downstairs by the door in five minutes!” Scrooge ordered, sick of having the same argument every time. Donald still protested however, “Please just let me stay home this time, I wont be alone, Duckworth will be here. I want a weekend to myself without Della throwing me into a death trap as a prank” he huffed. But Scrooge was already heading out of the door, “Five minutes lad, or I'm dragging ye by yer tail feathers, understand?”_

_In typical teenage fashion, Donald responded the way he always did._

_“_ _UGGHH!!! I hate you, you ruin my life! I can't do anything I want!!” he screamed before slamming the door after his uncle left._

Scrooge didn't know why that particular memory was repeating itself in his mind. Was it because it happened recently or was it because it summed up his nephew perfectly? He couldn't say. All he could think of was how vastly different the boy was acting compared to back then.

A week had passed since the twins were brought back home from their grandmothers farm and nothing had improved. In fact, it was more accurate to say it had only gotten worse. Donald still wouldn't talk, refusing to even write anything down that could give them a clue as to what had happened. He'd become so difficult to deal with that it felt like he was yelling sense into a brick wall. Scrooge hadn't been able to leave his mansion all week, and the one time he did manage, Donald had to be with him. The longest they could stay outside for was an hour before his nephew began to panic and cry, they barely made it out of the car. In the end it just didn't feel worth it.

The lad wasn't okay unless he knew Scrooge was defiantly somewhere in the mansion. As the week went on though, Donald no longer felt satisfied with his uncle simply being indoors with him. Overnight he became Scrooge's shadow, following the man into every room he went and constantly sticking to his side. It became infuriating quickly and Scrooge didn't know how he was to deal with it. All day Donald followed him around, joining him in the kitchen to speak to Duckworth, standing by the desk in his office when he filled out paper work, even going as far as sitting on the floor when his uncle took a bath.

Nothing Scrooge did was getting through to him and it felt like he was reaching breaking point.

When Scrooge retired to his room, he had hoped that Donald would do what he'd normally done in the past week, go into Della's room and sleep with her. But not tonight. Nope. Donald had decided that tonight he wanted to be with his uncle and nothing would send him away.

“Curse me kilts lad, why are ye wanting to sleep here? I thought ye were happy staying with Della?” Scrooge shouted, already in his sleeping gown and standing above his own bed furiously. Donald was sat on top of the covers, his knees drawn to his chest while he looked down sadly to the floor. Scrooge didn't know if he was pouting like a toddler or maybe he was feeling embarrassed by the ordeal, but either way he wasn't going to move, or speak, and the older duck didn't have the energy to deal with it anymore. All day he had spent trying to get a moment's peace from his clingy nephew, all the while not seeing much of Della, who was also upset because of her brothers strange behaviour and not getting much done with his work, and his board members constantly calling him to come to the bin for meetings, it was all too much. The day had been too long and the fight was not in him.

So he gave in, telling himself it would just be for that one night.

Donald held onto him the whole time, making Scrooge feel constricted, like a python was wrapped around him, in his own bed. He didn't get a decent sleep like he had hoped for, because his nephew kept twitching throughout the night. His hands would grip tightly at his feathers and his feet would kick out, often catching Scrooge in the leg. Then the chattering of the small beak quickly became a pounding headache as the night drew on. This did help Scrooge realise one thing however. This was not a phase or a weird way of getting attention.

Donald was frightened of something. But what Scrooge couldn't guess. So after three more days of his nephew refusing to leave him alone, he decided to enlist the help of a doctor.

Scrooge sat in his living room, un-admittedly nervous. His nephew was of course by his side, resting up against his arm despite the vacant length of the rest of the sofa being available. But Scrooge supposed it made sense. This was the first time they had strangers in their home and the lad had never liked meeting new people to begin with.

In the chair to their left a middle aged woman sat wearing a formal dress and holding a clip board in hand. She had glasses at the brim of her beak and her hair was tied up in a bun. She was every bit the typical psychologist Scrooge had expected to see, and she came highly recommended. And for once Scrooge decided not to go for the cheaper options.

Next to her sat an older man, a doctor that Scrooge had gone to for years and was someone he knew well. He had thought it was best to call for them both as the mutism was a big concern that might of needed medical attention. Whatever it was they offered he'd take it, he was on board.

Donald not so much.

“Donald, my name is Emily, I'm just here to ask you a couple of questions and see what I can do to help you okay?” the woman smiled politely. “This is doctor Shelton, he's here to do a small physical exam, but we can get to that a bit later” she said, introducing the man beside her.

Scrooge could feel the grip on his arm tighten. “It's gonna be fine lad, we'll get to the bottom of this fiasco soon enough and then we can start getting back to normal” he smiled and reassured. But Donald didn't like that, his eyes widened and he leaned his face further into Scrooge's arm, treating it like a shield. Emily started to write in her pad and Scrooge couldn't help but try and get a small peak.

“So you said over the phone that Donald had no prior issue with mutism until over a week ago?” the doctor asked.

Scrooge nodded in agreement, “He's had issues with his voice and trouble speaking clearly when he was a wee bairn, but nothing over the past couple of years. I cannae get him to say a word now, ye wont even write down on paper what's happened, will ya lad?” he addressed his nephew. Donald looked up, meeting his eye-line briefly, before shaking his head.

“That's very interesting, so do you acknowledge that there has been some sort of incident that's caused you to feel this way Donald?” Emily asked.

He froze, not knowing who to look at or what to do. So instead he buried deeper against his uncle, not wanting to give any answers or face anyone. But Scrooge wasn't having it. “Come on lad, you've been asked a question” he said, pushing Donald to sit up properly. But he looked so unsure of himself that it was almost pitiful.

“Donald” Emily grabbed his attention again. “I'm not going to ask you for any details alright, just yes or no questions. Did something happen to cause you to feel the way you are?” she asked softly, placing her notepad down and leaning forward to show interest.

Scrooge could feel his fists tighten when his nephew reluctantly nodded his head, the first time admitting that something had happened. But this wasn't to be celebrated. Something had happened to his child? To his wee boy?? He felt his face grow red with anger and worry. “What in dismel downs happened to do this to ye?! Did someone hurt ye? If they did I swear on me family legacy-”

“Scrooge please!” Emily interrupted, stopping the man from standing up and swinging his cane around wildly. “Donald will tell us when he's ready to, for now let's just keep this nice and easy.”

Scrooge huffed, “With the money I'm paying ye I expect ye to fix him today” he grumbled under his breath, only to receive a silencing glare from the psychiatrist.

With his uncle finally clued in, Donald wasn't looking any better in himself, instead he seemed more anxious then before.

Emily cleared her throat and carried on. “Okay, so before this incident happened, your uncle said you were very independent and sociable, would you say that's right Donald?” she asked. The boy nodded again, relieved he wasn't giving details. “Did you have any hobbies you liked to do?”

“What in Klondike does that have to do with-?”

“Shh.”

Donald nodded again to the question.

“Do you enjoy doing those hobbies now?” He paused for a moment before shaking his head sadly. He hadn't touched his guitar since he left to go to his grandmothers farm.

Emily wrote something down again. “What have you been like with food, do you enjoy eating and drinking?” This felt like such an odd question, and Donald must have thought so too as he looked to his uncle, unsure of what to say. When he shrugged, Scrooge realised he'd have to answer for him. “Well before the lad didn't have any problems, he ate what was given. But I have noticed since this whole thing started that he wont eat a lot of hard foods, mostly sticking with soups and whatnot.”

This interested the doctor more, as he took down his own personal notes.

“Donald, do you feel any pain when you eat?” he asked, deciding this was his part to deal with. Donald refused to answer though, but his hand drew quickly to his neck in a protective manner without realising it and that was all the doctor needed to see.

Scrooge was about to push the boy again to answer but Emily stopped him, “It's okay. Let's move on. How have you been sleeping, do you get a good nights rest?” Donald held out his hand and gave a so-so gesture as his answer. Next to him Scrooge smiled sadly, his hand resting briefly on his nephews. “I think he gets nightmares, he hasn't slept alone in his own bed since he came back. At first he was staying with his sister but now he's decided to invade my sleeping quarters.”

The boy looked away with embarrassment but made no attempt to argue or disagree.

“Don't worry, it's a very normal reaction if someone whose young has had a bad experience. It makes us feel safer when we know there's someone there who can protect us if anything were to happen during the night. Probably the only way you can sleep is by knowing someone is beside you, is that right Donald?” Emily asked kindly.

Scrooge was very surprised when Donald nodded in agreement, surprised to learn that that was the reason his nephew wouldn't sleep in his own room or by himself.

Suddenly he felt very guilty.

“Lad... I want to help ye feel safe, but I just dinnae know how to without knowing what happened to ye” he explained. Donald looked down, probably already knowing this.

“Don't worry Scrooge, I have an idea of what we can do going forward” she reassured, putting the miser to ease. “In the meantime I think it would be best for Doctor Shelton to take over.”

Happily the man obliged. “Okay sport, I just want to do a quick check here” Shelton kneeled down in front of Donald and reached his hands out to feel around the boys neck. But the action was immediately stopped when Donald kicked out in anger, catching the man in the face, before covering up his neck with his hands protectively.

Scrooge was horrified as he watched the doctor hold his nose, groaning with the pain it brought him. “I am so so sorry, I-I-I... DONALD!!” he snapped, grabbing the teens arm and restraining him before he could do any further damage.

Even though she was shocked, Emily collected herself and wrote it down in her note pad.

“It's okay” Shelton assured, pinching the brim of his nose and shaking his head to snap out of his daze. “I'm fine don't worry, probably should have given more warning” he laughed halfheartedly.

Scrooge just felt mortified. His nephew was strong, he could have done some real damage if he tried. He held Donald close to him with one hand and used the other to hold down his legs so that he couldn't kick out again. The teen didn't even look sorry, he was glaring at the doctor like there had been harmful intent.

“Alright, let's try again. Donald, I just want to feel along your neck to check for any signs out outward trauma, and then look down your throat to see if there's anything affecting your vocal cords okay?” he tried to reason, but Donald frantically shook his head and protected his neck. He wasn't letting anyone get close to him, and this just convinced Scrooge more and more that the mutism wasn't voluntary.

“Are you feeling any pain when you try to speak? Are you feeling pain in general?” the doctor tried to get a response from him, but with each question Donald kept shaking his head, visibly becoming overwhelmed. He wouldn't let go of his neck, adamant no one was going near it. Scrooge started to feel himself grow sympathetic, worrying that this was too much in one go. He wanted life to go back to how it was, but he didn't want his nephew to suffer like this for it. Before when he thought it was an act he would have pushed Donald into cooperating, but now, now that he knows it's something much more serious, the protective parent in him wanted to tell these two to get out of his house and leave them be. But all he could do was hold Donald close, gently rubbing his fingers along the arm in comfort and reassuring with what little words he could think of.

“Okay, I wont touch your neck, but can you open your beak so I can look down your throat? It's not going to hurt, I promise” Shelton asked, picking up the stick they used to push the tongue down and shining a torch ready to go in.

He tried to get close, trying to be more forceful with the examination this time as it needed to be done. But even when asking Scrooge for assistance in keeping him still and trapping his beak open in his hand, the same thing happened. Donald exploded, fighting against the restraints, and tugging his head away from the doctor, who let go so as to not hurt him, and wiggling his arms free from his uncle so he could lash out and knock the tools out of the doctors hands.

The man sighed, feeling defeated already. Donald threw himself back into his uncle, and the man had no issues in holding him with his arms and running his fingers through the boys hair. He wasn't breathing right, starting to sound almost as bad as he did when Scrooge collected him from the farm. He was far too overwhelmed and was starting to panic, and all Scrooge could do was hold him and whisper for him to calm down.

Never had he felt so useless.

Shelton sat back down, and Emily finished writing in her pad.

They all waited for the heavy rasps to die down. And now that people were leaving him alone, Donald did start to calm.

“I dinnae know what to do” Scrooge confessed lowly. The professionals looked at him with sympathy, understanding his plight.

“Do you think there is a way we could speak to you privately about what to do going forward?” Emily asked.

With a heavy sigh, Scrooge gave it an attempt. “Donald will you go sit with your sister for a few minutes?” he asked while lifting up the boys chin. To no ones surprise Donald shook his head no.

“Alright then” Scrooge reached into his pocket and took out a pair of headphones and a walkman. This had been his lifeline, the only way he'd been able to have private business conversations and meetings at home while his nephew clung to his side. The music would be loud enough to drown out the noise, and Scrooge would make sure he could faintly hear it too, so that he knew Donald was definitely not listening.

With a nod of understanding, Donald put the headphones on and started listening to his music. He laid his head down on his uncles lap, making himself comfortable and closing his eyes, resting up as much as he could with his hands still covering his neck just in case. “That's the best we're gonna get I'm afraid” Scrooge apologised.

“It's alright, a very good idea Mr.McDuck. So I think based on what we've seen today, its fair to conclude that he's been hurt somehow and it's definitely to do with his throat. If there's signs of trauma I could confirm that for definite but I don't want to put too much stress on him right now. I will need to do an examination but it's probably for the best to wait until he's more comfortable for it” Shelton explained.

Shaking his head, Scrooge found himself unsure of what to say. “I... it's just not like him. The lad has been hurt before, he's never, ever, responded this badly to it. W-what could of happened to him that no one else knows about? And I wasnae even there, why is he clinging onto me?”

Emily spoke up, “People all act differently when dealing with trauma, and if this is the case for your nephew, from what I've seen today and what you've told me over the phone, I think the reason he's getting more 'clingy' is because you are what he associates as safe. You're his legal guardian and I imagine his protector too.”

“But before this the lad barely wanted to be around me, he just wanted to do his own thing and stay in his room like every other teenager, why suddenly want me now? He's always felt the safest with his sister, not me. Truthfully we mostly ended in arguments, that's why I don't understand it. Not only that but he keeps getting worse! At first he just wouldnae let me leave the house, he'd go ballistic if I tried, but now he won't be out the same room as me, and I just feel so lost as to what to do” Scrooge admitted lowly. His hand gently played through Donald's hair as he spoke.

With a nod, Emily listened closely to what he said. “It's difficult to give you an answer without knowing what happened exactly, but I think the best thing we can do is put in the steps to recovery. When you tried to leave the house before, how did you respond to him wanting you to stay?”

Scrooge raised his brow, unsure of the relevancy, “Well I... I was annoyed. I wasnae sure if he was doing it for attention or not so...”

“Would you make it known that you were annoyed, maybe showing your frustrations every time Donald would ask you to stay?”

It felt like a personal attack, and Scrooge was quick to jump to defense. “I am a busy man I'll have ye know. I needed to go and run the multi-million McDuck empire! I dinnae have time to be messing around for something I didn't think was an issue until recent, and I won't have you judge me for so!”

Quickly Emily held up her hands, “No no Scrooge, I'm not trying to put the blame on you, I'm just explaining why Donald's behaviour seems to have gotten worse over the week.”

"Oh... I see" Scrooge cleared his throat and straightened himself out, trying to recover a bit of dignity.

“What I think has happened is that something or someone has frightened your nephew to the point where he no longer feels safe, except with you. At first he was reassured by the knowledge of you being at home with him, but over the days he's probably felt it was getting harder to make you stay home if you kept on getting annoyed and frustrated with the idea. That's why simply having you in the mansion is no longer good enough, because he knows you want to leave the house, and he doesn't trust you not to do so. I think that's why he's following your around and wont leave your side, it's the only way he can make sure you're there to keep him safe if something should happen to him.”

For moment Scrooge let those words sink in. It all made perfect sense when she said it out loud, and he wanted to kick himself for not figuring it out on his own. But it also broke his heart a little, knowing that he was the reason Donald was getting worse and not better. The lad was terrified of something and all he was doing was telling him to go away and leave him in peace, treating him like a nuisance all the time.

For the first time in a while, Scrooge felt very small.

“So what do I do to help him?” he asked lowly.

“Encourage him to be clingy.”

Well that was confusing.

Scrooge raised his brow, his beaked opened with no words, but a string of noises that sounded like he was trying to find the logic in her answer.

With a smile, Emily explained. “You see the problem is is that he doesn't feel safe unless he's with you, and he knows you want to leave, so it's reverse psychology. When he comes to you, welcome it. Give him a big hug whenever you can, tell him when you want to leave a room and ask him to follow. Make him feel like you never want to leave his side. I want you to do this for two weeks. And the reason is because this is what will make him feel secure that you wont leave him. This will grow his confidence that he's safe and looked after, and that you want to be there for him. If he feels that security, you will find that he starts to loosen up. It may be a slow progress, but that is the first step you need to take.”

There was a strange look on his face, mostly because Scrooge wasn't sure if he trusted her logic on this. What if he encouraged this behaviour and Donald never grew out of it? It felt like such a risk to take.

But he had to quickly remind himself that she was an expert in anxiety behaviours, she's probably seen this all before and surely she'd know what she was talking about... right?

But Donald had never been one to go with the norm.

It was incredibly hard for him to put his trust in someone despite his better judgement, but everything he had tried so far had only made the boy worse. So with a knot in his stomach, he bid the doctor and psychiatrist goodbye, agreeing to try it their way. A phone appointment was to be had a week from now, and Scrooge could only pray to the lord above that he would have something good to report.

Or else he'll be cancelling their check.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might feel a little rushed through, but it took me hours and I wanted to get through the period of time it focus's on without it getting repetitive. Hope you guys enjoy and thank you so much for all of the love and support on this fic. You have no idea how much it means to me ^3^

Scrooge took off his hat and sighed when he closed the front door. He rubbed at his temples and took a moment to let the past hour sink in. Naturally Donald stood by his side, hand grasped tight on his arm as he watched his uncle silently. His headphones were resting around his neck and he held the walkman in his pocket, the music no longer playing.

The older duck turned to his nephew, a soft smile gracing his beak as he studied the boy carefully. The jumper he wore still covered his neck, so any chance of looking for damage subtly was out of the question. All he had now was to follow the plan Emily had told him to do.

With a sad chuckle, he reached up and ruffled Donald's hair. He lead the boy to the stairs and paused at the first step.

“Della!” He called out loud, “Come here lass.”

The young girl didn't take long to walk from her room and hurry down to them in her usual fashion, stopping next to her brother. “How did it go?” she asked him, hoping by some miracle he'd start talking to her again. But all she got was Donald looking down to the floor. It caused her to frown just as much as he was.

“Don'cha worry about it all lassy, everything's gonna be fine. In fact...” Scrooge stretched out his arms and pulled both his niece and nephew close to him, “... I think I'm going to take some time off from work and stay in the mansion with ye two rasckles, spend some real quality time together doing all those mundane things ye two enjoy, like watching the television, or those graphical video games. How does that sound?” he asked, addressing the question more to Donald. He didn't need to ask Della for her opinion as he already knew she'd be excited, and the massive grin she had on her face already was answer enough.

Much to his relief, Donald finally smiled, eyes lighting up at the idea of the family staying together. He nodded his head, showing his appreciation, and Scrooge couldn't help but give a big squeeze as a hug to both his wards.

“This is gonna be great! Can we watch a movie? And stay up late? And sleep in sleeping bags in the living room?” Della asked with enthusiasm, throwing her arms into the air as she cheered. Scrooge couldn't help but fluster at her rush of questions. “Er I suppose so. How about ye set up what ye want to watch and we'll go grab snacks” he offered.

Della whooped loudly before running off to the entertainment room, shouting about which movie she was going to choose. Scrooge couldn't help but laugh to himself. He then turned to Donald, who once again looked a bit like a child lost in an empty room, and rested his hand on his shoulder before leading him into the kitchen.

The pantry was where they kept the good snacks, and for once, feeling generous, Scrooge allowed Donald to go and pick out more then just one. This was clearly a surprise as the teenager was taking his time to choose, not used to the idea of being allowed to pick multiple.

“Go on lad, Della will have started the movie without us. Just pick whichever ones ye want” Scrooge groaned from where he leaned on the doorway. Donald looked back at him, no doubt wanting confirmation yet again that he was actually allowed to choose more then one snack without getting a bill for it, until he suddenly realised that his uncle was standing on the other side of the door from, not the on the inside of the pantry. Scrooge's first instinct was to scold the lad for being silly as Donald reached out and pulled his uncle over the fresh hold, making sure they were both definitely in the same room. But he stopped himself, remembering what Emily had said to him. Donald was only acting this way to feel safe, and perhaps seeing the possibility of a door being closed on him and cutting him away from his uncle is what made him feel the need to do that, despite it only being a mere step of difference. After thinking of it like that, all he did was rub Donald's back in reassurance, then reached up to grab all of the snacks he could carry.

When they walked to the entertainment room, Donald did something surprising. He let go of Scrooge's arm and excitedly ran up to Della.

The girl had gone all out, taking the cushions from the sofa and stacking them up high in a makeshift fort. She had pulled hers and Donald's duvets from their rooms, as well as dozens of pillows, and created a comfy seating area for three of them to sit and watch the tv. She had even taken the old Christmas fairy lights that had been stored away for the year, and placed them within the gaps of the fort, keeping the main lights off so they could sit and bask in the pretty glow.

She was already comfy under her duvet and sitting on her pillow, and Donald didn't hesitate to crawl through the opening and admire her work.

“Duckworth will not be wanting to clean up this” Scrooge mumbled to himself. Where the kids saw a cool wonderland, he just saw a load off pointless mess. The kids always complained when they were made to sleep in tents, why was one made of pillows indoors suddenly so exciting?

With a roll of his eyes, Scrooge crawled through the space and joined his adopted kids, grimacing as he felt his back pop from the unwanted action. He placed down all the snacks, and Donald had been smart enough to not drop the cans of pep when he got excited about the fort. Della threw a blanket over her uncle, who sat in the middle and laid her head against his shoulder. For fun Donald threw himself over both of them, grinning as his sister pushed him off playfully, before settling against Scrooge's other arm. With everyone finally comfortable, Della pressed play on the remote and started the movie, which was followed by another one, and another. They didn't make it past the first ten minutes of the forth one before all three of them fell asleep.

Scrooge had deemed the first night a success, and he was starting to get the hang of what he needed to do. Unfortunately the happy mood didn't carry through over the next couple of days. Donald was still clingy and quiet, and Della was beginning to be the one who got frustrated. As much as the idea of staying in and having fun was great at first, she didn't like not going outside, and she was itching for adventure, but she didn't want to go alone, nor was she allowed to. But what could Scrooge do? He couldn't leave the house because of one twin, but now the other was also having issues.

By the third day of being at home, he saw Della slap her brother in anger. “It's been two weeks! When are you going to snap out of this!? You're being a jerk!” she screamed at him.

Scrooge was quick to pull her back and discipline her, but she still crying out abusive words to her brother, which Donald refused to fight back against. Normally the boy would match her, often exceeding her harsh words, but now all he did was hide behind Scrooge. Why couldn't he get his niece to understand that this wasn't something he could wake up from? Why couldn't she be patient with him and stop assuming this was personal?

In the end it was Duckworth who had to come and take her to her room, because even though she was fifteen, she was still acting like a small child. When her screams were finally dying down, Scrooge turned to his nephew. Donald had let tears stream down his face as he rubbed his face. All the older duck could do was hold him tight and pray that the Emily's plan would start working soon.

The next day, much to his surprise, Della came downstairs to breakfast and embraced her brother from behind, planting a kiss on his head and apologising for what she said. Apparently Duckworth had had words that Scrooge hadn't been able to do, due to the lack of privacy, and it helped her to see that she needed to be more supportive right now, and not push her brother into what he wasn't ready for. Scrooge would call himself a liar if he didn't say that that was the proudest of his niece he had been so far.

A couple more days past and everything was becoming routine. Scrooge told Donald which room he was going into and lead the lad with him, whether it was to eat food or go to his office. He kept as much closeness as he could, keeping his arm around the lads shoulders as they walked, a small hug whenever Donald stood in his way, resting his head on his nephews when they sat together to show he wanted him there. It was nothing Scrooge had considered doing and truthfully it wasn't something he felt comfortable doing either. He loved his nephew, but physical affection was difficult for him and it didn't feel like this was working. It had been nearly a week and Donald was still clingy, still refused to sleep in his own bed, and no closer to speaking or explaining what had happened to him. He was due for a phone consultation tomorrow and he was planning on asking for another strategy because this wasn't going to work out.

But in one of the most rarest of times, fate and coincidence had bested him.

With aches in his joints, Scrooge sat down on his sofa, tired of being used as a resting post and wishing for just a moment of peace. But where he went, his nephew followed. So he held back his exasperated sigh when Donald sat down next to him and prepared to be crushed again. But then it didn't happen.

Donald had sat down next to him, but not up against him. He had a persons worth of space between the two of them and made no attempt to get closer, or to lean against his uncle, or any contact at all. He was just happy to sit there, near him, with his legs drawn up and watch the tv.

Scrooge wanted to comment on it, to point out and praise his nephew for the effort, but he didn't say a word. He didn't want to risk it in case Donald hadn't noticed what he was doing, or cause the lad to feel patronised, or just jinx it in general.

So instead he stayed quiet, a large smile spreading across his beak at what he deemed as a massive breakthrough, and allowed himself to get more comfortable on his sofa, no longer feeling suffocated in his own home.

And by whatever miracle, he refused to question it, it was indeed the first step completed to the path of recovery. For the rest of that day and the next, Donald didn't cling onto him. He didn't hold his arm, didn't hide behind his back, didn't attach himself in anyway, the exception being when they went to sleep. Now instead the lad was happy to just be in the same room as his uncle, and visibly it looked like he was feeling better about it too. Della was over the moon, but Scrooge had told her not to make a thing about it just in case.

So now in his office, he watched as the twins sat in the corner of the room, both having their own music switched on while playing a card game that Scrooge was sure they made up, while he was on the phone speaking to Emily.

“It's only been since yesterday, but it's incredible, he's getting back to being more like his old self” he beamed down the phone, but quiet enough to make sure the twins didn't hear.

_“That's wonderful news Scrooge, I thought this would happen before the two weeks were up. I still want you to keep up what you've been doing though, still encourage him to follow and give him physical affection, and you'll soon find that the more you give, the more he pulls away and gains independence. You're doing your job to make him feel safe, so well done sir.”_

Scrooge blushed slightly, not used to that sort of commendation. “I sure hope so. I just think he's doing so well, do we even need to a wait a week before doing the next step?”

Her voice got less soft. _“Yes. If you rush this then it can set him back, that's why I will wait until next week to talk about moving forward.”_

Despite openly disagreeing with her, Scrooge did his best to obey. It was probably a good thing she didn't tell him as several times he was wanting to skip ahead and start the next phase. But he waited. He waited through the week, doing what he had already been doing. Smothering Donald with as much love as he could bare, despite it hurting his character. He often felt a wave of relief when the boy became less interested in him and more interested in being by himself. So long as they were in the same room though.

Even during the night, Donald finally started getting comfortable enough to sleep on the other side of the bed, no longer crushing his uncle in his sleep. However there were the few occasions he grew restless from dreams or nightmares, and he turned over to reach for Scrooge, but other then that, everything was going great.

The week past and Donald spent more time with Della then with him, so long as Scrooge was in the room that is. Which is why he felt comfortable enough to let Della stay this time when Emily returned for her follow up appointment. She was so happy when she saw Donald sitting away from Scrooge, preferring his own space, and even grunting when Della sat close to him. He looked much more confidant then he did the last time she visited, and happier also.

“Well things seemed to be going well here” she smiled softly, after finishing up her brief session with the teen, only asking him small yes or no questions, like if he was feeling better, did he sleep well, how was he eating and just in general getting an overview from Scrooge and Della on his progress. When they answered, she took down notes and agreed when they praised him.

“I believe now we can move on to the next step. Donald you're feeling a lot more confidant being by yourself now, as long as your uncle is in the same room. I want you to try a small exercise for one week, okay?” she said.

Donald nodded in agreement, happy to oblige, much to the relief of Scrooge who had his doubts.

“I want you to spend ten minutes in a different room from your uncle each day. You can have someone else with you if you need to, but Scrooge has to be in a different room, even if it's the room next door. Do you think you could try that?” she asked.

This was the set back Scrooge had expected. Things were going too well for them lately, so of course something had to trigger a bad reaction.

Donald paled at her words, sweat already dripping down his face. Immediately he shook his head, refusing to listen to anymore, covering his ears when Emily tried to explain why he needed to do this. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to try. He just wanted Scrooge. He leapt to his uncle, tears falling at the idea of him not being in the same room, and panic quickly settling in again as he held the man tightly.

“No no no, laddie, ye need to try this okay. It's been three weeks now, and ye need to learn to get ye independence back. I can't be with ye forever” Scrooge tried to reason, while trying to gently pry the boy off him, but Donald refused to acknowledge his words. He didn't want to be reasoned with, or even try to find a compromise, he just wanted to be safe.

“Maybe we should try it now, just for five minutes” Emily offered while standing up from her chair, she motioned for Scrooge to get up too, which wasn't an easy task with Donald pinning him down. But the miser pressed on, eventually succeeding with the held of Della who pulled her brother back.

When Scrooge stood up, free from the clutches of his nephew, he hurried to the door, Emily following behind. His heart ached when he heard the desperate pleading cries, knowing already that his nephew was fighting to be by his side again. Emily nearly pushed him out the room before closing the door behind, and he could only assume it was because Donald was about to get him. He couldn't help but lean against the hard wood and listen to the ordeal on the other side.

Emily had stood herself in front of the door handle, blocking it out of reach for the teen, but that didn't mean he didn't try pushing past her. His hands almost touched it until she took his arms in a firm hold and pulled him away. She helped him sit on the floor, whispering calmly and showing him how to breath as he failed to do so on his own. He just kept shaking his head, tears streaming from his eyes while his chest heaved rapidly with broken cries. His whole body trembled, and slowly he started curling in on himself, hiding from the world and protecting his neck.

Della threw herself down to the floor next to him, wrapping her arms over his body in a protective manner. “It's okay, you're still safe” she cried, unable to stop her own tears as she felt her brothers distress. She just wanted his pain to stop and to get him back to normal. That's all she wanted. But he wasn't even responding to her. Donald was too scared. Too scared to move, too scared to fight, too scared to do anything.

Emily couldn't move his hands away from his neck, but she could brush back his hair in comfort and lift up his chin to look at her. “It's alright, I know this is difficult, but Scrooge is just here behind the door. Scrooge? Can you hear me?” she called out. Faintly he replied to her with a yes, almost instantly putting Donald at a small sense of ease as he looked up to the unseen voice. “Okay, every time you hear a knock on the door, I want you to reply, just to say you're still there” she instructed. Then, making sure Donald was watching, she knocked against the door three times.

“I'm here.”

She turned back to the teen and smiled. “Anytime you start feeling like it's too much, all I want you to do is knock on the door and you'll see that your uncle is still there, okay? Give it a try.”

He didn't need to be asked twice, he banged his fist against the door rapidly, his breath continuing to get stuck in his chest as he waited for a response. “Still here laddie, don't worry.”

He still didn't calm though, and Della knew that he wouldn't. Donald kept banging on the door, acting as if it were an automated machine that would trigger a response from their uncle, and much credit to the old man, he responded every time.

Emily took hold of Donald's hands, trying to get his focus back on her. His eyes kept darting to the door, but she moved to block his view. “Listen to me. Do you feel that your in danger right now?” she asked sternly. He looked down, he didn't want to answer.

It was a risk, but she needed to play the hard game. “Donald as soon as you answer my questions, I'll let your uncle back in, okay?” was her professional way of saying “cooperate or Scrooge stays outside”. Thankfully she was talented at her job, and knew that the words triggered a desperation in the boy who wanted to speed up the process, which is why he agreed with a nod.

“Do you feel in danger?” she asked again.

It took him a few painful breaths, but he nodded his head. His panic attack started sounding worse now.

“Is there anything in this room that you feel is putting you in danger?”

For this Donald had to look around. His chest was burning as much as his eyes were, but he had to respond by shaking his head. It wasn't anything present.

Normally Emily would ask what it was that scared him, but without being able to talk, she had to analyse the situation and figure it out like a puzzle before she could ask the questions she wanted. They had to be pointed and direct, and from what she had seen, she had an idea of what the problem was.

“Is it someone in particular that your feeling afraid of?”

He flinched, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. But quickly he nodded. And Della's eyes went wide as her stomach dropped.

“Is it someone who comes to the mansion? Have they been here before?”

Donald shook his head.

“Was it someone on the farm?” Della quickly asked, panic now evident in her own voice as she dreaded the possibility of someone in their family hurting her brother. He nodded his head once more, which was followed by a rasping moan of his voice as he visibly became overwhelmed. There wasn't more he could take as he once again pounded on the door for his uncle, who responded immediately.

But Emily decided that this was enough for now. She moved out of the way, and Della helped Donald stand up from the floor. She opened the door for Scrooge, and before the man could step inside, Donald threw himself back into the safety of his arms. This time Scrooge said nothing, no questions or reprimands. All he did was hold his nephew tightly and bury his face into the top of the boys head. Loud sobs echoed around the room as Donald couldn't handle anymore, it had all had become too much.

Della wiped at her own eyes, small whimpers chattering from her beak as she watched on. Scrooge didn't have the heart to leave her out, so he reached out an arm and motioned for her to join them, an offer she didn't refuse.

Out of respect, Emily stayed silent and waited. There was much to discuss but they all needed this moment after such an episode. So she stood there as long as it took, until finally the twins pulled away, wiped at their eyes and composed themselves as much as they could.

“Sit yerselves down kids” Scrooge said, pushing them towards the sofa. He didn't sit down with them however, he wanted to see if Donald could sit by himself again or would this have caused a relapse where he wouldn't be parted from his uncles side. But much to his relief, Donald sat with Della, happy to let her hold his hand while he drew up his legs, and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. Scrooge could tell easily from where he was standing that Donald was feeling ashamed of himself. No doubt the boy was aware of what great progress he had made, and now he'd gone and done it again, humiliated himself by crying like a child for his uncle. It wasn't a feeling any fifteen year old should worry about, and Scrooge had often forgotten that just because Donald was now mute, it didn't mean that he was now stupid or unaware of what he was doing. It was an ugly judgement he had made unknowingly, until but a week ago when he started to realise he would talk about Donald like he wasn't standing next to him, or like he wasn't able to understand what was said. It was Della who pointed it out, and since then Scrooge had to be so careful how he spoke, not wanting his nephew to ever get that impression from him again.

Emily took her seat, and as usual wrote in her notepad. There was a long silence lingering in the air as they all waited for her to finish.

“Well, first things first, very big well done Donald” she cheered, catching the boy by surprise. “I know that wasn't easy but you did it, and that's all that matters. I can see now for definite that this issue stems from someone hurting you, and you feel that Scrooge is the only person who can protect you, is that right?”

Sadly he nodded.

“Okay. Do you think it's likely that this person will come to the mansion?” she asked.

Donald's brow furrowed together and he sunk lower in his seat. All he could manage was shrugging his shoulders.

“Is it someone that you know?”

Donald closed his eyes, which were now dry, and pressed his beak firmly together. He started pinching his fingers together and motioning in the air.

“You want to write it down?” Della asked, eyes widened in excitement. This was the first time he was finally agreeing to open up, the first time he would write down what he wanted to say and she was ecstatic. She had been trying to get him to do this for ages now, so she didn't hesitate to find a note pad and pen and rush it over to him.

She waited with anticipation, wanting so desperately to see what her brother was finally going to reveal. He held the note up for everyone to read.

_I don't want to talk about it anymore._

Della couldn't help but groan, feeling completely let down.

Scrooge simply hung his head low, feeling himself that this was more then enough for one day. So with that they finished the session. Scrooge once again walked Emily to the door and listened as she gave him last minute advice before saying their farewells. He could see why she had made him wait that extra week before giving him the next step, he hadn't thought such a reaction would still happen. But in a way, he was glad that it did, because it helped narrow down further the issues that had to be dealt with.

So for the next week, he would have to prepare himself for possible repeats of this episode, for ten minutes every day. He was not to give in to the please or cries of his nephew, and he was not to do this exercise alone to begin with. Either Duckworth or Della was to stay outside so Donald would see he wasn't alone, and Scrooge needed to be near the door enough so he could reply whenever the lad knocked. That was the arrangement. With every passing week, he was to add on an extra ten minutes.

Truth be told, he didn't have much faith in this strategy. But he was willing to try.

And he had an idea that might make it easier.

The next morning Scrooge took Donald to the security room of the mansion. He showed him everything, all of the anti-break-in set ups, the cameras, the door bolts that would activate when alarmed, the outdoor laser traps, the electric gates, everything. And he gave Donald the job of setting up the system and disarming it when needed.

The lad had stared at him with such confusion, not understanding why he was given such an important job. But Scrooge had every faith in him. If he needed to activate the security for peace of mind, then Scrooge was willing to let him have free reign, despite what it would cost. If this would make his nephew feel safe, then it was worth every penny.

Even with the new job, Donald didn't want to leave his uncle in a different room. Going through the ten minute exercise went as much as he had expected it too. Donald sat outside his locked office door with Della by his side and his fists pounding on the wood every few seconds for that reassurance he was still there. There was no denying the frustration that came with it, constantly repeating himself over and over when he had hoped to take those precious ten minutes to ring up at the Money bin and get some updates, but he couldn't get through the first sentence on the phone without the knocking interrupting and his cry of reassurance that yes he was still in room, much like he was five seconds ago.

But Emily had warned him this could happen, and so far she had been right with each step of her treatment plan, that he couldn't deny. He had to reply every single time, and in a calm manner or else this wasn't going to work. Still, he had to admit his eyes fixated on the clock in the room as he waited for those last few minutes to pass. Hearing the cries of your children and not being able to go to them was a difficult task indeed, and one he never thought himself having to face.

When the minutes were up, he was to go out of the room, not let Donald in, so that the boy wouldn't feel like he was blocked out from uncle, but rather waiting for him. Then, as usual, Scrooge would give him a big hug and remind him that everything had been okay. No one had tried to hurt him and he was safe. He was to say that every time, no matter how repetitive, because it was a reminder his nephew needed.

So for the first week, that's what they did. Every day Donald stayed in the same room as his uncle and did whatever he could find to keep himself entertained, then he would be made to spend ten minutes apart, which started with the usual panic attacks and clinginess, until suddenly it didn't. When the days passed, the more they did it, the less Donald would knock on the door. The more weeks that went by, more time was added, and the easier it all suddenly became.

Soon Scrooge had found Donald didn't need someone to sit with him during this time, he didn't panic or cry or throw a fit, he simply accepted what he needed to do. Every so often he still knocked on the door, especially as time had extended, and he still wouldn't go anywhere else other then outside the door, waiting for his uncle to come out, but Scrooge had managed to get the boys interest in other things during that time. Suddenly Donald would have a book he wanted to read while he waited, or he would draw a picture, or even start playing his guitar again. So long as he knew Scrooge was there, he was okay.

It had definitely been a strange couple of months since this whole situation started, and no matter how much good progress they made, they still couldn't get the lad to talk, or say what happened. Even with visits from Emily, and encouragement from his family, Donald did not want to speak about it. In the end, all Scrooge could do was accept it. Maybe he would never find out the truth, maybe his nephew was always going to be mute? These were problems he couldn't deal with just yet, not until Donald was ready, is what Emily had said.

With a small sigh Scrooge rested in his chair, nursing his cup of nutmeg tea. They were on a 40 minute separation time now, and Donald was waiting outside his door as usual. But he hadn't knocked in a while. In fact, he'd only knocked once since the time started.

It was strange, for the first time Scrooge felt himself grow to be the one worried about the other. He wanted to go check, just to see if Donald was okay. The boy had switched on the security systems for the evening and was last seen sitting by the door with a book in hand.

Scrooge couldn't settle.

He tried counting coins, or looking through maps of the world, but his mind wouldn't focus. Why was Donald so quiet? He had expected a small knock by now.

Time was going by painfully slow as he watched the hands of the clock tick along. He wanted to go out now, but he had to wait for the full 40 minutes to be up. That was the rules. So painfully he waited, and not a second late when the minutes finally passed did he open the door to look for his nephew, who surprisingly wasn't there.

“Eh? Where did that boy go?” Scrooge mumbled, scratching at his head.

From behind he heard a soft humming grow closer towards him, and when he turned he was met with the smiling face of Della who happily skipped up to him. “Lass have you seen yer brother?” Scrooge asked, not questioning her sunny disposition. But the girl's grin only grew wider as she started to giggle. “You'll see” she sang while taking her uncles hand and leading him down the hallway.

She stopped in front of Donald's door, which was opened a jar already. Quietly the pushed the door opened, placing a finger to her beak for her uncle to stay quiet.

Scrooge couldn't help but feel the swell of tears in his eyes as a large smile graced his bill.

For the first time in months, Donald was finally sleeping in his own bed.

It had been such a difficult few months. But things were definitely getting better. Every week felt like a milestone in progress, and things started improving at a more rapid pace.

For the first time in a while, Scrooge was finally able to leave the house on his own. He could finally get back to his work, his beloved Money bin, and swim among the rivers of gold he created for himself over his many many years.

At that point, life got back to normal.

It wasn't all smooth sailing, there were still set backs here and there, but in the end, it all worked itself out.

Well almost all of it.

Donald still wouldn't talk.

At this point, Della and Scrooge accepted it. This must just be who their brother and nephew was now. Someone who either wouldn't or couldn't talk. Finally Donald would go outside again with his sister, go into the city without a care, and would mess around like he used to do. But he would just do this silently.

Della decided that if this is what it was, then this is what it was. She loved her brother and would do anything for him.

She walked through the hallways of the mansion with a book in her hands. She followed the gesture that was being instructed from the pages, giving her basic words that she could sign with her hands. She wanted this to be a surprise for her brother, to introduce him to a new way of communicating. He was a lot smarter then she was, though she'd never tell him that, so she wanted to get a head start on this learning, knowing he'd pick it up quicker then her. That's why she wanted to be fluent. She wanted to help teach him to talk again.

“-- ~~nmead---oalnd---kc~~ ”

Della froze.

_What the hell was that horrible noise??_

“-- ~~lleohhahgendi~~ \--”

It sounded again, followed by an animal like growl. It was nothing like Della had ever heard. It was awful! Like an engine that was burning out or like nails on a chalk board, both at the same time. It was like someone was gargling gravel in their throat and trying to talk with it.

She placed her book down and followed the noise.

“-- ~~heollymnmaeondnldukcd~~ \--”

None of the words that were being spoken made sense, she wasn't even sure if they were words. All she could thing was perhaps an evil spirit had gotten released again from one of their many cursed treasures? Maybe a new evil she would have to fight?

Either one she was ready for. Nothing could stop Della Duck!

Except she wasn't ready to see this.

Della opened the door to one of the bathrooms in the mansion, one that was never used due to how far away it was from the main rooms of the mansion. When she snuck through, she was ready to fight a demon. She wasn't ready to see her brother standing in front of the mirror, tears welled up in his eyes while he tried to steady his breathing.

He cleared his throat, coughing as much as he desperately could, and paying no attention to Della who stared at him with confusion.

Donald gripped the sides of the sink that he stood in front of, his eyes fixated on his reflection as he readied himself to try again.

“-- ~~myanmesiolanducdk~~ \--”

Della covered her beak too late. A loud gasp alerted her brother to her presence, and with horror Donald turned to her, freezing as he caught the look of despair in her eyes.

“Is... is...” Della stammered, unable to form her own words. She and Donald just stared at each other, neither one knowing what to do. Her hands started shaking. “Is... that... your voice?” she whispered.

He couldn't look at her anymore, he couldn't face the way his sister stared at him like he was a monster. So instead he closed his eyes and held his head low, his shoulders hitching with the shame of being heard like this. He wanted to cry, but no tears fell. He wanted to run away, but his legs wouldn't move.

He wanted to talk, but his voice was broken.

Suddenly he felt the warmth of an embrace around his body, and felt the small droplets of water that fell against his skin. All he could do was hold Della's hand as she wept, now finally knowing why he had been silent this entire time.

“Please... please tell me and uncle Scrooge what happened to you at the farm?” her voice spoke so softly, so gentle. So much love and warmth to it. Something he would never be able to express himself again. 

Donald slowly nodded his head, the only way he knew how to communicate.

It was time to tell the truth.


End file.
